


Trammel Up the Consequence

by moodyme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Guilt, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character Death(s), POV Multiple, Secret Identity, Slow To Update, Tattoos, Violence, basically every TRC character is in this or at least mentioned, because there is discussion of awful things and awful things that kinda happen each chapter, brief discussion of child trafficking, brief discussion of human trafficking, discussions of death and murder, there are not individual warnings for each chapter, this is self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyme/pseuds/moodyme
Summary: "Blue Sargent stood in her tiny kitchen, faced with the first person that knew her by that name for the first time in nearly a year. To this man, she was either Mirror or Blue Sargent, not Jane Grover.Adam Parrish had the look in his eyes that told her he had just come from a job, faraway and glassy, and that relieved her. It told her he hadn't gotten used to it yet."Blue was raised by assassin's, and Adam joined them in his teens. Afraid she is getting too used to the killing, and wanting to stop, she runs to Wales. There, she meets Gansey and his friend Ronan. They spend a year together, before Adam appears, asking her to come back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Go up, read the warnings. There will be unpleasant things in this fic. If there is something you think that should be tagged, please let me know, it is zero trouble to add it and I would appreciate it.

Blue Sargent was sitting at a busy cafe's outdoor section, under a green and red umbrella in an effort to protect herself, though only marginally succeeding, from the light drizzle that was falling from the sky. It was this misty rain that caused Wales to remind her of Seattle. The rain of Wales (which seemed to neither end nor begin, but rather to go on and on and on, ceaselessly) and the rain of Seattle were the same. She supposed that that was where the similarities between the two ended, but the rain was so ensconced within the identities of both places as to make the comparison viable. Wales was like Seattle.

Where it was remarkably different, however, was the accent.

In Seattle, not sounding like a native, with their vowels almost Canadian, was not immediately cause for suspicion. There were enough transplants in Seattle to make them used to the comings and goings of a plethora of other drastically different accents and languages. In Seattle, Blue had once found, you could easily disappear in the cacophony of other voices. But, if she needed to sound like a born and bred Seattleite, she could easily slip into the accent.

Not so in Wales. Blue had now been nearly constantly exposed to the long, open, musical quality of the vowels here, and she was still having difficulty imitating it with any consistent success.

And then there were the cultural differences. Wales was decidedly proud of being Welsh, and their political, cultural, historical, and social differences were very nearly overwhelming, considering she had never had much cause to learn any of the tiny nations intricacies of culture. Had this been Spain, or Ethiopia, or Venezuela, or Brazil, all nations she had gone under deep cover for jobs before, she would have been easily able to fit in. As it was, she was relying on her nightly cram sessions to help her.

And even beyond the cultural differences and the accent she was still mastering, was the difference in language. Technically, there were two languages in Wales; the native Welsh and English. And while the former was only spoken by less than a quarter of the population, the place names were old, and often in Welsh. Making herself sound as though she were familiar with them was proving a challenge.

Pontypridd.

Merthyr Tydfil.

Llandudno.

Pwllheli.

Ystradfellte.

She had settled on Wales on a whim. A whim she was slowly regretting. Still. Something about this small, rugged country felt right. Like she was meant to be here, had always been meant to be here. Like Fate had been nudging her to this place her whole life, and once she had come, Fate had sighed and said, 'Ah, yes, finally'.

The access to cremepogau (which had quickly put to shame every other pancake-like food in existence in her opinion) she was quickly addicted to didn't hurt.

"I'm just saying, we could use another person to help with research," She overheard a man say. The voice made her turn (not to look at the owner of the voice, she had been trained better than that, but to better hear the man). It wasn't familiar, but it was American. Maryland, maybe. Or even her own Virginia. Old money, for sure, with that hint of a trained mid-Atlantic lilt.

The man's companion grumbled something in reply. A complaint or curse, before the two entered the cafe.

Research. A job. Even better, a job with two Americans that likely wouldn't be able to question her Welshness.

Blue looked back at the cafe, at how crowded it was. The two men would either have to wait for an inner table to clear (unlikely), or take their order outside. 

Blue waited several long minutes before pulling out her phone and, hoping the two men weren't there to meet someone that was already within the cafe, dialed the number to a bank in Carmarthen. For the next two minutes, a robotic voice would give her the time and the weeks forecast in both English and Welsh, before connecting her with an operator.

The men were soon exiting the cafe, to-go cups in hand. Blue was in the middle of giving the automated voice on the other end of the line a passionate complaint on the state of the job market in Cardiff. It was a gamble, but Blue had always been lucky. She was banned from three Las Vegas casinos, after all. Never mind that it was for counting cards.

One of the men paused, and Blue watched behind her dark glasses as he glanced, with zero subtlety, at her. Blue nearly stumbled over her words as she looked at him, looking at her. He was beautiful. Only, beautiful was too small of an idea to fully encompass him. He was the poetry of nature in human form. He was Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass' come to life.

He annoyed her instantly.

With a final, heavy, sigh, she ended her call and made herself look dejected. It worked. Soon, the beautiful man was whispering at his companion, who, Blue had just realized, resembled a razor blade. Razor boy seemed nearly furious as beautiful boy waved him off and approached Blue. She acted startled when he coughed to get her attention.

" _Prynhawn da_ ," He said, and smiled, obviously pleased with his pronunciation, "Pardon me, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. Did I hear you say you were looking for a job?"

"You did, yes," Blue hurried to say.

"How fortuitous!" The man exclaimed before gesturing razor boy over. The other man looked like he would rather be settling in the dentist's chair, awaiting a mouth full of root canals do be performed. "I was telling my surly companion here that we needed an assistant. Would you like to work for us?"

"Well, what does the work entail?" Blue asked, suddenly suspicious. This was too good and happening too quickly, Blue wondered if they were bad criminals or just that easy of a mark. Still, she had them sit with her at the table, providing the minimal amount of relief from the rain with it's umbrella.

"Oh, mostly running errands, office work, filing and research. I'm an archaeologist-" 

"Ha!" Razor boy barked, ignoring the sharp look beautiful boy shot him.

"Well, not officially. It's a hobby. A passion, really. Are you familiar with Owain Glyndŵr?" Beautiful boy asked. 

"Of course, what true Welshman isn't?" Blue answered. She had stumbled across his story while doing her initial Welsh history cram session, a cram session she was becoming increasingly thankful for.

"Too true! Well," He replied, paused, and leaned closer, as though what he was about to reveal was some great secret, "I'm looking for his tomb."

For a moment, Blue felt an intense amount of pity for him. His passion was finding a dead king's tomb? A king who's tomb had been searched for in a tiny nation for more than 500 years? How sad. Then, the moment passed, and was replaced with a feeling of deep envy. How wonderful to be so passionate about something, anything. 

For the next hour, Gansey (for that was his name, Richard Campbell Gansey III, 'But I prefer Gansey') detailed her job's duties and expected pay ('Under the table, unfortunately,' He had whispered. Blue wanted to scream with how perfect it was.) and a brief history of what they had already done in their search.

His companion, who Blue learned was his childhood friend Ronan Lynch, remained surly and razor-like and silent. Unless, of course, to provide a biting remark.

That had been nearly a year ago, and was how Blue Sargent had become Jane Grover.

She had been across all of Wales now, from Amlwch to Barry to St. Davids to Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant. Through Snowdonia and the Brecon Beacons. Had searched through libraries and church records and legendary rumors. All for a long lost dead king. All for Gansey.

Falling in love with him had been too easy.

Becoming begrudging friends with Ronan Lynch had been too easy.

Finding herself happy and free and at peace for the first time since she had been a teenager had been too easy.

So of course it would all come crashing down around her, just like her coffee cup was now doing, shattering the ceramic like the carefully constructed lies she had been forging, living.

Adam fucking Parrish was standing in her kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cremepogau (plural of cremepog) are, as far as I know, pretty similar to American style pancakes - which is a little thick, a little fluffy, and piled with butter. Yum!
> 
> Sorry guys, updates will be sporadic at best :(


	2. Chapter 2

Adam fucking Parrish was standing in her kitchen. 

For the first time in nearly a year, Blue was standing face to face with someone that knew her, not as Jane Grover, but as Blue Sargent. It felt terribly like being known. It was terribly uncomfortable.

Neither spoke for a long moment as her surprise slowly ebbed away. In that moment, Blue took in Adam's features, the same slim body, shoulders straight, never bowing under the weight there. His eyes were sunken more than usual, and there was an empty, glassy quality to them that meant he had just come from a job.

She was thankful for that look in his eyes. It meant he still felt something. Over what he had, probably, just recently done. What she herself had done, as a _job_ , as a _living,_ not too long ago. And that relieved Blue to an unspeakable degree. There had been a time when she was terrified she herself would one day lose that look. It had been one of the reasons she had left Blue Sargent behind and fled to Wales.

Her surprise had dissipated enough that she felt she could open her mouth to speak and she was about to ask what Adam was doing in her kitchen, to ask how he had found her, to ask how he was doing, to ask after mom, to demand he leave, she didn't know. Before her vocal cords could coax the vibrations needed to form the words, the door to her apartment was thrown open and Gansey's voice rang from the hall into where they were in the kitchen.

"Jane!" Gansey cried, and she listened as he hurriedly made his way the few steps down the hall towards the kitchen, "Jane! You'll never believe our luc- oh. Who is this?"

Blue had had too many surprises for the day. She quickly signaled to Adam that Gansey was not a threat, and blurted out the first thing she thought of.

"This is my brother, Adonis," She said, and didn't miss the surprise flashing across her boyfriend's face. And why shouldn't he be surprised? Jane Grover had never mentioned having a brother. And they looked nothing alike. The name had been chosen randomly, the first she could think of that resembled Adam's true name closely enough that neither would stumble over it. "Adonis, this is my boyfriend, Gansey."

"Half-brother," Adam smiled. 

The lie had begun being constructed so easy, Blue felt a pang of nostalgia. How often had she and Adam covered for each other's lies in the past to make it so second nature to them? There had been a time when these lies had been the difference between life and death. For them, and for others.

"Same father, different mothers," Blue continued. "We were raised separately."

It would explain her Welshness and the English accent (very BBC News, a little too posh, too south of England, too London for anyone to think it was anything other than covering up another accent, it was very Adam Parrish) that Adam had slipped into. It would explain her dark skin and his fair. It was all being done tidily. It made her a little sick, and a little proud.

"Oh," Gansey said, looking between the two of them, searching for a hint of a suggestion of a resemblance that he would never find. "Jane didn't mention you were coming."

"No, sorry, mate. I was unexpectedly in the area for business and thought I would pop in, have a chat and tea with my sister. Unfortunately..." Adam said, pausing and indicating the remains of her second favorite mug.

"Oh dear!" Gansey exclaimed, just noticing the ceramic shards covering the tiled floor, "You aren't hurt, are you Jane?"

Blue assured him that she was fine, Adam watching them all the while, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Jane," Adam said, and it felt so strange to have that mouth form those sounds when speaking to her and not the old, familiar, 'Blue' or even 'Mirror'. "Could we talk in private?"

"Yes," Blue agreed, suddenly afraid at the tone of his voice. It was so eerily calm. That had never been a good thing. "Just a moment-" 

Blue turned to Gansey, to excuse them, to apologize, but he was already grabbing the broom and dust pan.

"I've got this," Gansey said, polite smile fixed in place, and his brows furrowed in concern, "You go chat with your brother."

She was motioning for Adam to follow her, but he paused next to Gansey and seemed to consider him for a moment. Something shifted, ever so slightly, and something about him softened. He offered his hand to be shaken my Gansey's hand that wasn't occupied. Gansey polite smile widened into a true thing, and he took it. He then glanced at their joined hands, saw the edge of the tattoo at Adam's wrist where his shirt sleeve had ridden up.

"You have the same tattoo as Blue?" Her boyfriend asked.

Adam let go of Gansey's hand, not like he had been burned, but nearly as quickly.

"Yes," Adam said, his face shifting again into perfect neutrality, all traces and hints of softness gone. "It was nice meeting you."

Adam tugged his sleeve back over his wrist, trying to hide the mark that was there. Blue touched the tips of her fingers against her own ink-covered wrist and she wondered if his reminded him of his guilt the same way it did her. 

"How did you find me?" Blue sighed when they were safely away from Gansey's hearing, tucked into the tiny alcove that passed itself off as a living room.

Adam looked at her, and it was almost condescending, but it was too exasperated, too disbelieving. Too uncomfortable. Blue sat heavily on the dated, flowery, sofa that had come from the previous occupiers of her apartment in Cardiff. Adam sat next to her, gingerly. Like he was expecting to be told not to.

"We never lost you," He said, and Blue felt a stab of fear, of panic. "Well, your mom knew. And she told me before I went to London on my last job."

It made sense, she supposed, that her mother would have been able to keep tabs on her. The illusion that she had safely and successively managed to disappear in the mist's of Wales was broken, but she wasn't sure if it was totally unexpected.

"I thought you must have come from a job, I saw the old look in your eyes," Blue sighed. She meant to ask him what it was, but her memory had already snatched on a piece of information. She remembered the bit of news she had caught that morning from the radio alarm, before her coffee, before Adam had appeared in her kitchen, before her life had come crashing down. "Ashland... was that you?"

From what she had gathered that morning, a Lord Ashland had been killed by a sniper in the hours before dawn, the day before he was set to open a new children's ward in a London hospital. She hadn't thought much about it. The assassination, from what little she had heard, had had the touchings of one of Adam's, or anyone else she knew, jobs. It had been too hurried, too strange of a mark. Ashland had been a popular member of the house of Lords. Involved in multiple children's charities. Not someone whose death would be likely to benefit their old employer or the family or anyone else, really.

"Yes," Adam grimaced. Before Blue could ask why, Adam glanced back to the kitchen, towards Gansey and the new voice that had entered - Ronan, complaining about not being able to find a parking space, Gansey soothing him, explaining about the surprise visit from Blue's supposed brother, needling Ronan to be polite- and frowned, thoughtfully. "Do you love him?"

The question surprised her. Did she love Gansey? How absurd. Did she love living? Breathing? Did she love the quiet of a forest after a spring rain? Did she love the stars? She loved Gansey, she had always loved him. Before she knew him, she loved him. 

Adam must have seen something in her face, because his thoughtful frown slowly morphed, and he smiled his quiet smile. The smile that had been for her, once upon a time, when they had still been children. It made her heart hurt, with the realization of how long it had been since she had seen that smile. Even before she had left, it had been months since she had seen it grace Adam Parrish's face. 

"Blue," It was barely even a whisper, like Adam had simply mouthed the name and willed Blue to hear it. Louder, he said, "You need to get him - them? To safety. I'm going under once I leave here, and I need you to do the same."

Blue rose, peered into the hall, made sure Gansey and Ronan were still playfully fighting in the kitchen, and pulled the door closed. 

"What's happened?" She asked, barely managing to hold onto her Welsh accent.

"I don't know," Adam sighed, standing and pacing the room. Where he had been calm moments before, he was now anxious, fidgety. Like the door closing had opened a release gate holding in his nervousness. "I was undercover for the last few weeks, when I suddenly got a call from Piper."

"Piper Greenmantle doesn't give orders," Blue interrupted. "Doesn't make calls. That's Colin's business, she stays above all that, I thought?"

"She's been more... involved, these past few months," Adam said, tugging at his hair in a way Blue hadn't seen him do in years. Like he was facing a difficult set of problems that he hadn't yet managed to logic and reason an answer to. Like Piper, who loved her cheese's and wine's and fashion and cursed object's was complicated. Confusing. Blue had certainly never thought so. But now she feels like maybe that was a mistake.

"Adam, what. What's happened," Blue repeated. Adam looked at her, and then the carpet.

"I wasn't supposed to kill Ashland," He sighed. Blue watched as he opened and closed his left fist. When he spoke again, his voice was all pure venom. "I was supposed to work for him, take out some competitor. Christ, Blue. He ran a fucking child trafficking ring. He wanted his rival's business. The _kids_ his rival has. Owns. God. And he was bragging about it. About how _profitable_ of a venture it was."

"No," Blue protested, whispering the word with conviction, like it was a spell. Like it could make it untrue. Adam had started pacing again, the color of anger, red, rising in his cheeks. His voice gained strength, but he was obviously straining to keep it quiet enough that they wouldn't be heard.

"And then he offered me one, as a , as a fucking _tip_ , if I did the job well. And I broke the code and I broke a contract, and I don't regret it. He deserved to die," He spat. Adam looked as though he would continue, but Gansey was walking loudly down the hall, politely announcing his coming, and tapped at the living room door.

"Jane," he asked, "Will your brother be staying for tea?"

Blue hesitated to answer, watching the way Adam was slowly drawing himself in, restraining himself. She remembered, suddenly, and with a drop to her stomach, that Adam's true purpose in coming had been to warn her. To ask her to go under. To imply that she and Gansey and Ronan weren't safe here.

_'How long before we have to leave_ _?'_ Blue signed, afraid Gansey would overhear them.

She heard Gansey repeat his question as she watched Adam contemplate her's.

_'An hour, less if you want to be cautious,'_ He finally answered. 

_'I need both of them safe,'_ She signed to Adam, while simultaneously answering Gansey, "I think we'll be stepping out for tea today, darling,"

As soon as Adam nodded his head, she plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. She desperately hoped Gansey couldn't see through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will see a POV change!


End file.
